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User blog:Psychomantis108/Story: Myths of Mundus: Dark Pilgrimage - Chapter 14: Sprung
Ymir's fist drove down hard into Bologra's right cheek, again and again as his crowded around him and continued to cheer at the barbarity. By this point, Ymir's Orsimer victim was barely lucid, his cheek was starting to swell up from the repeat beatings that his face was taking. "Ymir!" Hareld called from the back, quickly finding himself to be ignored as his small plea for attention was drowned out by the cheering. "Ymir, stop!" He insisted, stepping forward but his words fell uppon deaf ears, resulting in him having to forcibly stop his Chief, by snatching his forearm mid punch. Ymir quickly looked up to his lackey, with a stern look, tempted to punch him so that he could go back to administering justice, however, he waited to hear him out. "They're escaping, the cat's escaping!" Hareld informed him, prompting the elder Nord to glance over to his right at his own tent, where he immediately saw the silhouettes of his prisoner and his Bosmeri accomplice. "Gods' blood!" He snapped, sounding both enraged and annoyed by this revelation as he quickly turned his attention back to the younger Nord before sighing heavily, ending on a slight growl as he dropped Bologra to the floor and pulled himself up to his feet, marching over to the tent as he got ready to punish the escapees. Hareld quickly followed Ymir, as did another one of his people, leaving Ymir's son and two other tribe members to guard the half dead Orc as he recovered from Ymir's heavy handed beating. ---- Nair felt Arlas' hands wrap around his bicep as he was slowly pulled to his feet, he winced and swayed side to side as he felt the cuts in his face come to life, stinging like mad as he went dizzy from the blows to the head. If he was anywhere else he would refuse to move and lie down for a bit as he felt close to keeling over but he knew that that would just lead to more beatings, for him and his companions. Nair had to push on if he didn't want to die in this place... "C'mon... We need to get you out of here, get back to..." Arlas' reassurances paused as she quickly came face to face with Ymir himself, who stood as defiantly as a rock before her. The Bosmer couldn't help but silently gulp as her eyes met with his, seeing how void and vacant one of them was... Arlas, thinking quickly, conjured a spell in her left hand and blasted it at the Nord at the center as she pulled Nair away from the fray. Before them both appeared Dremora, who quickly saw that he was in a warrior's camp and knew who his target was. He drew his axe before moving in for the kill, Ymir quickly responded by snatching Hareld's shortsword and running the Daedra through, not even giving it a chance to get a single strike in before sending it back to whatever depths it was plucked from. The Nordic tribal then turned to Arlas and began to march over to her, prompting the conjurer to have to think on her feet. She could use a destruction spell but most of the ones that she knew were so inept, that they would probably just piss someone like Ymir off. Arlas also knew that she did not want to engage this man in combat and would prefer to just flee with her life. Arlas quickly summoned a Clannfear as well as a flame atronauch, both of which appeared behind Ymir's back and proceeded to attack him. The Clannfear charged, straight into his back, smashing his shield-like crest head into the Nord's lower back as the Atronauch got a fire spell ready and fired it at the Chieftain, just as the Clannfear knocked him to the ground. The flames flew over the Nord's head and hit the fabric of the tent, almost instantly igniting it as it did so, setting the tent ablaze. In spite of the intense fire, that had now been created, Ymir seemed much more focussed on Arlas and Nair, becoming more enraged at the fact that they had damaged his tent. The Nord charged forward, instantly finding himself to be blocked off by Nair as he defiantly stood between Ymir and his Bosmeri companion, a brave but fruitless act as Ymir just punched him in the face, knocking him aside and allowing Ymir to snatch at Arlas' throat. He grabbed the Acolyte, wrapping his giant fingers around her neck as he lifted her off of the ground, staring up at her with an intense glare of hatred as he watched he kick and struggle as the life was squeezed out of her. Arlas' eyes quickly shifted over her summoned creatures, the first of which was cut down by the large axe of one of Ymir's men, whilst the other one was heavily distracted by Hareld, who appeared to be attacking it with his dagger. The scene played out with a blurry filter as the young Bosmer's eyes began to water as she struggled for breath and to resist the pain of having her larynx crushed. With Nair unconscious and her summoned creatures overwhelmed, Arlas saw that it was up to her, she had to make the difference at this point as nobody was coming to save her. Figuring that it was all or nothing, the Bosmer put her last ounce of strength and will into a lightning spell, which she slowly began to form in her hand, the spark crackled against her fingertips as she rolled the ball of energy around in her palm and after a few moments of it charging, she eventually discharged the spell, aiming it straight forward, into Ymir's chest. The lightning singed the Nord's chest, sending an unexpected jolt through his body and causing him to stumble back as he dropped Arlas to the ground, where she landed with a thud and proceeded to heavily cough and splutter, writhing in pain, whilst Ymir, shook off her spell. Arlas looked up, just in time to see her fire atronauch get cut down by a large tribal's axe, casting it back to Oblivion once more and giving Hareld and his companion the chance to turn back and join Ymir in the slaughter. Ymir himself just threw off the burden of the pricking burn on his chest, with a sharp 'roar,' casting his arms down to his side as he got Hareld's sword at the ready, hoping to drive it through Arlas and finally finish this fight. "Your Orc is Dead and your Khajiit isn't far from joining him! You should give up, whilst I still plan on killing you quickly!" The Nord barked, causing Arlas' eyes to widen at the news of Bologra's death... Glancing to her right and seeing Nair, she began to see how hopeless this situation had become, Nair was close to being dead, the only way that she could survive this was if she bolted for it, right now but even if she did and got away with it... No, she couldn't leave Nair to die and she couldn't leave Bologra unnavenged. They would either have a victory or Arlas would die trying, there was no other option! "I'd rather take my chances..." She replied, hoarsely before blasting a lightning bolt straight up at Ymir's face, however, the Nord was expecting it this time and quickly and effortlessly sidestepped, bringing his boot down on Arlas' face and knocking the Bosmer on her back. "Was it worth it?" He asked, slowly bringing Hareld's sword up, with the point dangling over her chest, ready to dive it through her heart. Arlas was oblivious to this as she lay on her back, wincing and rolling her head from side to side as the world ebbed and flowed around her and she faded in and out of consciousness... As Ymir finally got ready to end this game and avenge his daughter-in-law and grandchild, he immediately heard the pounding footsteps of a eight foot tall, 300lbs, seriously pissed off Orc as he charged into the tent and immediately went for the Nord, tackling him to the floor. Ymir landed with a heavy thud on the ground, finding himself unable to prevent his fate as he only had two or three seconds to react to the Orsimer's supposed resurrection and his counter attack. As the Nord Chief opened his eye, he immediately felt the familiar sting of Bologra's iron fist being brought down on his face in a similar fashion to the beating that he had inflicted on the Orc, less than ten minutes prior. He glanced up to see that the Orsimer's face was a bloody mess, with fractured, possibly broken cheeks and a definitely broken nose but Bologra, being the warrior that he was more angered by this than hindered. He felt the Orc's hand strike his face multiple times before his lackeys could step in. Hareld stepped in once more, brandishing his knife but quickly found himself to be hit by another of Arlas' lightning bolts, sending him flying back across the tent, landing inches away from the flame. "B-ogra!" Arlas slurred, still recovering from the boot to the face as she tried to warn the Orsimer about the second warrior, who swung his axe down, diagonally, aiming to decapitate his opponent and save his chief. Thanks to the heads up, Bologra quickly threw himself down to the ground before snatching Hareld's sword and quickly bringing himself up to his feet, where he anticipated the Nord's second attack. Predictably, he ran forward, timing a vertical strike, to be brought down on Bologra's head, hoping to split his crown in two. The Orsimer ducked his head and rolled to his left, narrowly avoiding the blade of the weapon before he eventually cut upwards and managed to slice through the Nord's armour. Though the Watchman's armour was rather Strong, Bologra's sword arm, being fuelled by rage and desperation outmatched it and the Nord was cut down. Bologra panted as he watch the last of the Tribals fall, quickly realising that there was no time to lose, in spite of the agony in his face. He quickly looked over to Arlas, who was shakily bringing herself up to her feet, snatching her staff and using it to support herself as she rose up from the ground. She gave Bologra a nod to show that she was okay to travel before looking over to Nair, who lay unconscious at her feet. "You'll... Need to carry him..." Arlas croaked, realising that even in his weakened state, Bologra could quite easily carry a single, skinny Khajiit. The Orsimer just nodded before kneeling down and picking up the sleeping cat, throwing him over his should as he struggled to stand. "C'mon... Let's get outta here..." He panted, quickly finding that the fight had been beaten out of him and if that didn't bring him down, the exhaustion would. He glanced over to the raging fire, behind them, prompting him to decide that now as was definitely the time to leave. He pushed Arlas forward as the two of them marched over to the front tent flap, hoping that others weren't waiting for them... Just as they reached it, they heard something clatter behind them, prompting them both to turn around, to see Hareld charging towards them with his knife. The Nord had hoped to sneak up on them but kicking that bit of clutter on the ground forced him to change tactics and he instantly charged forward, hoping to knife one of the adventurers in the back. Arlas stepped forward and quickly conjured a lightning spell in her right hand, that she blasted straight into Hareld's chest, for the third and final time that evening. The Nord flew back, straight into the support beam at the center of the tent, the force of which caused it to fracture and bend, causing tent to go lopsided as the Nord bounced off and landed with a heavy thud on the floor. Bologra's eyes widened as he saw the supports weaken and quickly pushed himself and Arlas forward as they left the burning tent behind them, just leaving it in time before it fell and became a bonfire. At this point, Ymir's son, followed by the remaining of his two guards, quickly rushed across the camp to his Father's aid as he saw the tent collapse as the three prisoners left. He immediately found himself to be overcome by grief-driven rage and immediately charged in towards the group. Arlas glanced up and saw him, prompting her to immediately conjure up two flame spells in her hands as she unleashed them on the ground in front, creating a firewall between the group and the Nords and giving them a head start as they fell back into the wilderness, desperate to get away from the barbarians. ---- After losing track of the amount of time that they spent running, Bologra and Arlas came to a stop as the Bosmer doubled over and began to pant, clearly exhausted from the ordeal. "Wh-We're... Gonna have to stop soon, find a cave... Rest for the night..." She insisted, finding herself to be too weak to run anymore. Bologra couldn't help but agree as he glanced around, looking for any kind of shelter for the group. "Right... First thing's first though, need to cover our tracks, so that they can't follow us..." The Orc insisted, wiping his hand across his brow as he checked his back for Nordic pursuers, so far they were in the clear but they both knew that the Nords wouldn't let this drop. "R-Right..." Arlas agreed, quickly bringing up a conjuration spell in her left hand, this shouldn't be too tricky... ---- "Lars!" One of the Nords yelled as he and his fellow Watchman began to dig through the rubble, trying to pull the white tent sheet off of the Chief's collapsed tent. This barely got a reaction out of Ymir's son, who didn't expect to find anything. The Nord Watchman sighed as he stood up and backed away, glancing up at the tent as it burned, it was no longer salvageable, even if Ymir was alive right now, it wouldn't be possible to reach him, with the field of cloth that he was buried under blocking their way, stuck in place due to the wooden support beams that were jutting out of it. The Tribals all sighed heavily and backed away, turning their heads in both shame and grief as they 'enjoyed' the spoils of their defeat and the flames engulfed the collapsed tent. The three Nords came together, as the two watchmen backed away from the blaze and Lars got up and moved to the front and the three of them found themselves to be paralysed with pain and grief as they watched their chief's tent burn to the ground. However, unbeknown to them, something was slowly moving under the sheet, stirring from side to side. The emerging entity remained unnoticed, until it began to emit a low growl as it began to adjust to its surroundings. This prompted the Tribals to look up, incredibly surprised as they slowly saw something rise up from under the sheet, growing to be around four foot tall before eventually stopping as it got stuck under the incredibly restrictive sheet. The lowly growl quickly erupted into a enraged snarl as it tore its way through the sheet, slicing through it like a sword trough tissue paper and reducing the cloth to a shower of tiny fragments as the ten foot tall creature burst out. There, at the center of the wreckage, stood an incredibly tall, muscle-bound werewolf that stood panting on the spot as it stared down at its subjects, with its one good eye as the other one was milky. Ymir, who had transformed into one of Hircine's beasts, observed as his people examined his new form before he threw his head back and let out a drawn out howl that echoed throughout the region. Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:The Legend of Nirn